


My Liege

by Cat2000



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:49:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29832810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat2000/pseuds/Cat2000
Summary: Disclaimer: I don’t own anything from Lord of the Rings and I’m not making any money from this ficSummary: As Boromir lays dying, he decides not to hide his true feelings any longer
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Boromir (Son of Denethor II)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23
Collections: Froday Flash Fiction Fandom Battle





	My Liege

**Author's Note:**

> Warning(s): Spoilers for the Fellowship of the Ring; AU; violence; some descriptions of wounds
> 
> Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir

He’s dying.

Boromir knows it. Can see that same knowledge in those who remain of the Fellowship. Even if they will not say the words out loud, they know. They _all_ know.

The elf, Legolas, is half-turned away. The part of Boromir not overwhelmed by the pain wonders if seeing a man dying is disturbing to the elf. Legolas has faced death before, of course. _All_ of them have. But killing in the heat of battle must be very different to watching someone die once the battle lust is over.

Boromir’s vision is a red haze. Not the haze that fills him when he’s in the middle of fighting. He feels himself drift away, carried on a wave of pain and weakness. For a few moments, the agony ebbs; he feels calm. At peace. And if this is what death really feels like, he decides it’s not bad. Not something to fear. His only worry comes from thinking of Faramir; how his brother will take the news of his death.

And then his chest erupts into sharp agony and his whole body arcs up, his eyes opening wide as a series of curses fight to get past his tightly clenched teeth.

“ _Hold him_.” The hoarse order comes from Aragorn, who is leaning over Boromir, obscuring his chest and the wounds from his view.

But whatever the ranger is doing _hurts_. White-hot agony runs down Boromir’s body and he pants for breath, writhing to get free.

Why won’t they let him die in peace?

Boromir can’t see the ones who hold him, but he can feel the strength in their grip as they hold him down.

His flesh tears and he cries out, the pain intense enough to make his eyes water. His fingers scrabble to find purchase; his nails sink into skin and someone’s voice curses.

The pain lessens to a more manageable level and he pants for breath as he lets go of the flesh he’d grabbed. Aragorn raises his head and Boromir can see down the length of his own body. The arrows are gone; his wounds appear to be bound, although they throb horribly as his heart beats.

“Will he live?” Gimli’s voice comes from somewhere behind him.

“Yes.” Aragorn’s response is given in a calm, unwavering voice. He uses the water from his waterskin to wash the blood from his hands, washes _Boromir’s_ blood from his hands, as he looks at Boromir. “You will live.”

“You should have let me die.” Boromir’s voice is a hoarse whisper. He struggles to push himself up; Gimli’s thick hand holds him down with little effort at all and he looks up at the dwarf, his eyes pleading. “You have to rescue the little ones! I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop them from being taken.” His struggles grow more desperate, but only for an instant before exhaustion and pain overwhelm him. “You have to save them,” he repeats.

“We will.” Aragorn’s voice is strength and authority. He leans forward and Boromir assumes the man, his _king_ , will kiss his forehead, as he did before taking care of his wounds. Instead, Aragorn’s lips brush against his for a brief, tender moment before he pulls back.

Boromir’s whole body flushes and feels warm and neither have anything to do with the wounds he’s sustained. He licks his lips, tasting Aragorn on them, and murmurs, “I don’t want to risk slowing you down.”

“You won’t,” Aragorn promises. “Rest now. Recover your strength. We’ll find the little ones.”

Something about the calm, authoritative note in Aragorn’s voice allows Boromir to relax. He looks at the other man trustingly and nods. “I will obey you, my liege.” He closes his eyes and slips into unconsciousness quickly, still able to taste Aragorn on his lips.

** The End **


End file.
